Title: Unlike Any Other
Summary: A look at Narnia's monarchs through the eyes of a Calormene ambassador. Golden Age fic.
Imran Tarkaan, son of Korim Tarkaan, had once turned what was shaping up to be a civil war into a huge, profitable compromise for the Tisroc. Old Hammath Tarkaan, who had held the support of over half the country, had been unwise enough to threaten the Tisroc with revolt if his demands for fairer laws were not met. Imran, displaying extraordinary diplomatic talent, had made a deal with him that ended with the Tisroc gaining all of Hammath's wealthy lands and gold, and Hammath gaining all of a remote and barren southern desert.
The Tisroc had been immensely pleased, and Imran had become his prized ambassador. Which in turn had led to this: waiting in an elegantly furnished antechamber for an audience with the barbarian monarchs of Narnia. Imran was filled with disdainful interest at the prospect. He had heard many strange tales of the four Kings and Queens, and even he had difficulty deciding which was truth and which was falsehood. But what he was sure of was his ability to out-talk even the most charming of serpents. As for four children who claimed kingship over such an uncouth land… well, Imran expected his job to be easy.
One of the demons of the land, in the shape of something that was half-human, half-goat, entered the room quietly and inclined his head to the Calormene ambassador. Imran remembered that such a creature was called a 'faun', and his mind recalled the word with distaste as the creature gestured to the doors by which he just entered. "Their Majesties are ready, my lord Tarkaan," he said, in a quiet, well-spoken voice. Imran knew that the 'people' of Narnia were quite cultured when it came to foreign dealings, but he was still surprised that such a creature could manage even simple civilized talk.
The Calormene ambassador rose to his feet, his movements calculated and graceful. He followed the faun through the grand double doors and into the Throne Room, his eyes making a quick sweep of the place. The ceiling was high, presumably made of glass, and huge arches with strange carvings supported it. The walls also bore the same mysterious inscriptions and carved pictures, and Imran was fascinated despite his general dislike of the place. But his attention was drawn to the other end of the room, where the four thrones were situated in splendor. And those who sat upon the thrones were by no means the children that Imran had pictured, even though the eldest could only be sixteen.
As he crossed the room, Imran studied each of the four monarchs in curiosity. High King Peter the Magnificent, about whom rumors said great things, was a man in everything but appearance. He had fair hair and piercing blue eyes that met Imran's own in something that was not quite welcoming but not quite challenge either. The very features of his face spoke of pride and strength, but there was also gentleness and genuine love that Imran rarely saw on the nobles of Calormen. The High King's presence seemed to fill the room, and spoke more volumes than his voice possibly could.
Queen Susan the Gentle was another matter entirely, but in no way was she less startling than her brother. She was very beautiful, with glossy black hair that fell almost to her waist and brown eyes that seemed to glow with regal dignity. She was a woman who knew her place in the world. Yet her title was one that fit perfectly, for there was no hostility in her eyes when she looked at Imran, only gentle interest.
King Edmund the Just was rumored to be a diplomat rival to Imran. He had dark hair and dark eyes that gave away nothing of his thoughts, and he seemed to relax in his throne with an easy grace. But Imran could almost see his mind working as they met glances for the briefest of instants. There was most definitely a challenge there, but one of skilled eloquence rather than brawn, one that Imran looked forward to.
Queen Lucy the Valiant was amber-haired and hazel-eyed, and she seemed to radiate joy and contentment, even as she was composed and grave. Imran found himself drawn to her seemingly innocent presence. Being the youngest of the monarchs, he would have thought she would be the most naïve and childlike. But there was nothing childlike about her. She was just as aware as her brothers and sister, perhaps even more so. And there was something about her that Imran just couldn't place.
The faun stopped a respectable distance away from the thrones, bowing elegantly. After a moment of hesitation, Imran did the same. The faun cleared his throat and spoke, in a much different voice than he had used before. "Your Majesties, may I present Imran Tarkaan, son of Korim Tarkaan, first ambassador of the Tisroc of Calormen?"
The High King nodded, his eyes on Imran. "You are welcome here, Imran son of Korim," he said. His voice, though young like his appearance, held something more to it that no normal sixteen year old would have. "I know relationships between our two countries have been less smooth of late, but I am hoping that any issues may be resolved today without further argument."
Imran smiled politely. "It is good to hear such kind words of peace spoken to me on my first ambassadorial visit to a country such as Narnia, High King. I, too, hope to leave with compromise." His eyes flickered to the faces of the other three before continuing. "The Tisroc (may he live forever) sends his salutations to your most royal persons and congratulates you on your recent successful venture against the remnants of the 'Fell Beasts', as you call them."
Peter inclined his head in acceptance as Imran reached into the folds of his splendid robes and brought out a sealed letter that bore the stamp of the Tisroc. "This my master (may he live forever) also sends," Imran continued, "in response to your earlier letter of query sent one month ago. He apologizes for the delay, for he was engaged in putting down a small rebellion." There was a certain amount of smugness in his voice, for Hammath's rebellion had not been small, and Imran himself had been the one to help bring it down.
The Calormene handed the scroll to the faun, who scurried up to Peter and presented it to him. As the High King began to read it, King Edmund straightened slightly in his throne. "I trust the rebellion was not serious?" he asked. The question was nothing more than a political nicety to cover the silence while Peter read, Imran knew, rather than any genuine concern about troubles within the Calormene empire.
He nodded. "After a few weeks of skirmishes, I managed to negotiate successfully with the perpetrator of the rebellion," he replied, drawing himself up proudly. "And both sides were able to compromise to an efficient end. You need have no worry, King Edmund," he added smoothly, his eyes glinting, "the Calormene empire is still as strong as it ever was."
"That is very well, then," Edmund said. "I would hate to think that your empire was weakened by those foolish enough to try to undermine its rulers." His voice was utterly convincing, leaving no room for doubt about his truthfulness. Imran was impressed, for he knew that none of the monarchs would be troubled by thoughts of rebellion in Calormen. They would probably welcome it.
Peter looked up from the letter, his eyes hard and cold, although his voice remained as polite as ever. "The pirate galleons that have been terrorizing our islands have caused a great amount of damage," he commented. "And that damage must be paid for somehow." He was rolling up the letter as he spoke, and he handed it back to the faun. "But the Tisroc claims that they were acting outside of his control."
"You may trust his word, I assure you," Imran said stiffly. "Every country has its rogues. Your 'Fell Beasts', for example. It is the same thing in Calormen, with pirates."
"I think both would qualify as something slightly more than 'rogues'," Queen Lucy said coldly, speaking up for the first time. "The pirates were responsible for the deaths of many Narnians and Galmans." She no longer seemed as friendly as Imran had thought her to be. Imran wondered if she had lost any personal friends to the pirate attacks.
"I am sorry for your loss," Imran said gravely. "But rest assured, the Tisroc (may he live forever) did not order these pirates to attack any Narnian, Archenlandish, Galman, or Terebinthian ships. To do so would come very close to declaring open war, which is something he wishes to avoid. Else I would not be here."
"Explain this, then," Susan said, leaning forward with a hard stare. "When one of the pirate ships was captured by our sailors, the pirates insisted that they were following orders from the Tisroc. Direct orders."
Imran shrugged, a rueful smile on his face. "Pirates will be pirates," he said. "And if you wish to trust the words of cutthroats and murderers, your Majesties, then what is the point of my arguing? But I will say this: the Tisroc (may he live forever) gave no such direct orders." His eyes narrowed to a cold look. "And to continuously insist that he did risks grave insult."
"Insult or not," Edmund stated, "we take the safety of our subjects very seriously. And these pirates present a major threat to our island provinces and trade routes."
"But if the Tisroc says that he has nothing to do with them," Lucy added, "I suppose we must take his word for it. We don't want a war with Calormen any more than he does." She leaned back in her throne, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "Tell me, have the damages from these selfsame pirates been very bad in Calormen?"
Imran's face hardened. He couldn't say that there had been no attacks without prolonging any lingering suspicions. "They have been minimal," he replied cautiously. "Our war galleons have been able to fight them off."
"Without sustaining major damage?" Edmund asked with a raised eyebrow. "How very fortunate."
"The costs have been rather hard, I must admit," Imran said. "But what country would admit its weaknesses to another?"
"Very few," Peter said. "Otherwise, more wars would be fought. But does the Tisroc expend efforts to end these pirate attacks?"
"I would think he would have to," Susan added, "if the costs are so hard."
Imran nodded. "Many resources are spent to capture these pirates and punish them," he answered. "But our luck has been thin in such areas." He was growing frustrated, though no sign of it showed on his face. He continued to answer their questions only because refusing to do so would seem very suspicious. And if Imran wanted to stay in the favor of the Tisroc, he had to leave Narnia with the winning hand.
"Perhaps the Tisroc should try harder?" Edmund suggested. "After all, if he wants peace to ensue, this should be a combined effort. And we have already done our part to the extreme."
Imran bowed. "Of course, your Majesty. I shall make sure the Tisroc (may he live forever) hears your words of wisdom."
"See to it," Peter said coldly. "For if actions are not taken, we will be forced to take matters further than either of our countries wants."
Imran nodded, resisting the urge to clench his fists. "Is that all, your Majesties?" he asked politely. "For the answering of your question was the only concern of the Tisroc's (may he live forever)."
"That is all," Peter acknowledged, bowing his head. "I will have an attendant bring noon lunch to you and your guards."
"There will be no need, High King," Imran replied. "I intend to leave as soon as the horses can be saddled. I am sure my master (may he live forever) would like to hear your response as quickly as possible."
"Very well," Peter said. "I wish you a safe trip back to Calormen, Imran Tarkaan."
Imran met his gaze again, and he bowed respectfully, going a bit lower than was necessarily required. Then he turned on his heel and marched out of the Throne Room, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on.
It seemed as if he and the rest of Calormen had underestimated the four Kings and Queens of Narnia. Imran had entered expecting children who depended on advisors and knew nothing of real politics. Instead, he had received threats, both veiled and open, that had the iron ring of confidence and truth behind them. He had no doubt that if his master did not call off the marauders, the Narnians would respond with quick and hard justice.
Imran was still marveling at everything several minutes later, when he and the rest of the embassy galloped out of Cair Paravel and across the green woodlands. The monarchs of Narnia were unlike any other he had ever met before. They may have been children in body, but they were hardened thinkers in mind and spirit. Imran knew that having them as an enemy would be a very bad thing indeed, for Calormen may have finally met its match in Narnia's rulers.